


MASK

by Glaciere



Category: Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: AU, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-04-20
Updated: 2010-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:44:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaciere/pseuds/Glaciere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsubasa is working for the yakuza, and this time, his task is simple: find the bag, steal the bag, be gone in two days. But Takizawa comes as a surprise, and Tsubasa has to decide if it's a deadly one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	MASK

_I'm not a man of too many faces,_  
The mask I wear is one.  
_______

They picked him up on the evening of the second day, just as he had expected. He had wondered if he'd have to fake a wound or illness, but in the end, there was no need; after he had left the main road the previous night, he was attacked by a couple of thugs who had left him with deep cuts to his right thigh and forearm, after they had taken his cash. He had staggered over to a tree stump, sat there, awkwardly, and waited.

He smiled wryly when he heard the sound of a car coming, winced, and clenched his teeth. The sound grew louder, then the car stopped, and two people got out.

"Huh," one of them said. "There's a person here. So many of them lately."

"I think he's sick." The second guy came closer. "He reeks of blood... Hey, you alive? What's your name?"

"Tsubasa," he said. Then everything went dark.

***

When Tsubasa woke up, the first thing he saw was a face. Nice, round and framed by disheveled, unevenly cut hair.

"He's alive, Koichi," the face's owner said, turning away.

Tsubasa moaned and dropped his head on the ground. "Hardly," he tried to joke, but wound up in a coughing fit. His throat was beyond hoarse.

The guy, Koichi, raised Tsubasa's head a little and pressed a plastic water bottle to his lips. "We patched you up a little. Try to stay on the road next time you go shopping in the middle of the night. Thieves?"

Tsubasa wrinkled his nose. "Tramps."

Koichi snorted. He could pass for a girl if his skin was fairer and smoother. Tsubasa nodded at his leg. "They left me nice autograph, too."

Koichi turned to his companion.

"This," he waved a hand in his direction, "is Tsuyoshi. I'm Doumoto Koichi."

"Doumoto Tsuyoshi," said the second guy. "We're not related."

Tsubasa nodded, a bit too impatiently; he knew that already, and besides, their names weren't important. He glanced at the plain brown bag Tsuyoshi was carrying. The thing he needed was probably there.

"And over there is another sorry excuse for a traveller. We picked him up not long ago - decided we could use some protection," added Koichi. Tsubasa propped himself up, hissing from the pain in his arm, and looked back. The man Koichi was talking about sat ten meters away, right on the ground with his back to a ginkgo tree. Tsubasa squinted - his eyesight wasn't the best - trying to get a better look.

"Hey, Takki, come here," Koichi called, "he doesn't bite. This," he turned to Tsubasa, "is Takki."

"Don't call me that," the man said curtly, coming closer and shaking dust off his jeans. Tsubasa looked up, opening his mouth to greet him, and stared instead.

"Oh," he said stupidly, "I thought you were older..."

"Takizawa."

The guy - he was young, around Tsubasa's age, maybe a little older - had hair the color of wet sand, and a very handsome face. His lips were pressed together tightly.

"I'm Tsubasa. Imai Tsubasa."

"Don't pay attention, he's always this cheerful," Koichi supplied wryly. "Tsuyoshi? Are we ready to go?"

Tsuyoshi shrugged. "Well, we have a whole day to find a hotel. If hotels exist in the middle of nowhere."

"Good. I'm tired of sleeping in the car." Koichi stretched slowly. "And my back hurts."

"Yeah. I believe you," Tsuyoshi said dryly, gripping the bag on his shoulder tighter. Tsubasa thought frantically that he had failed, that they weren't going to take him; then, Takizawa nodded at him, almost indifferently saying, "What about this one?"

All three stared at him. Tsubasa tried his best to look miserable. He wasn't very good of an actor, but, maybe because of his acting, or perhaps because the Doumotos and Takizawa didn't give a damn either way, they waited for him to get up and limp after them.

***

He had been called when it became clear that Yukio wasn't going to come back.

Boss stubbed out a cigarette hastily when Tsubasa came in, hovering in the doorway.

"Sit," Boss nodded at the deep chair by his table.

Tsubasa did as he was told, eyeing him warily.

"What happened with Yukio?" He didn't know all the details, but the rumors were starting to get ugly in the past couple of weeks. Three guys from his gang had been declared "dead while on business." Whatever was going on was serious.

Boss sighed.

"He won't come back." The tone of his voice suggested that no further explanation was forthcoming. "I am going to give you this-- matter, just because you are a thief." He leaned forward, elbows on the chair's armrest, and looked squarely at Tsubasa. "I need a thief for this - one who won't ask a lot of questions."

Tsubasa nodded and swore to himself he wouldn't ask any questions at all.

Boss shook a new cigarette out of the pack, offered one to Tsubasa, who refused politely (it wasn't worth getting indebted over something so small), and threw a stack of files on the table. Turning over one of the folders, he tapped a finger on it.

Inside were photos, stapled to sheets of paper.

"Doumotos," Boss exhaled, heavy smoke forming circles. Tsubasa glanced at him, then at the photo. It was blurry, but the photographer had managed to capture two men sitting in a cafe. One of them, wearing big grey-tinted glasses, was looking around; the other was drinking something and reading a newspaper.

Boss threw more photos on top of the folders.

"Doumoto Koichi, Doumoto Tsuyoshi. Unrelated. Freelancers. Couriers. Usually handle international business, but this time," he shrugged, "they agreed to take a job inside Japan."

"Our guys?" Tsubasa leaned closer to examine the photos. The Doumoto whom Boss called Koichi probably didn't part with his sunglasses even in his sleep.

"No. And that's the problem."

Tsubasa looked up.

"Yukio has managed to report that..." Boss hesitated a little, "the thing that we need is going to be delivered by the Doumotos. Can guess where to?" Tsubasa nodded. "Good. It must not get to Kitagawa at any cost. Your task?"

"Steal it."

"That too." Boss ground a cigarette into a glass ashtray. "Yukio ran away. I do not..." he frowned. "He should have already been here. The Doumotos are expecting him; they need to get him to Kitagawa along with... the thing we need. I'm afraid that you are going to have to play his role."

"They know what he looks like," Tsubasa said. His back started to ache.

Boss shook his head.

"No, they don't. It's a simple scheme, Imai-kun. They expect someone from us, they get him. They just... won't know that we are aware of their plans. You will call me when you get out, and I will send guys to pick you up. Can you hide outdoors for a couple of nights?" Tsubasa nodded uncertainly. "Good. Outwit them. If not..."

Tsubasa tried to assume a relaxed posture, but it wasn't coming along nicely.

"Sure," he said. Coughed and repeated, "sure. I'll do it. What is this thing I need?"

"A folder." Uncharacteristically, Boss was the epitome of cordiality now. "Simple and black, probably with a clasp. If you want, look inside - at your own risk, of course," Tsubasa smiled, fast and fake. "There's no deadline for the job, but do try to work quickly. Once you're at Kitagawa's, I won't be able to get you back."

With that, their conversation was apparently over. Boss stubbed the last cigarette out and got up to open a window.

Tsubasa looked at his heavy frame at the window and for a second imagined himself falling down - shattered glass, terrifyingly long seconds of staying in the air.

He turned to leave the office.

"Be careful with the Doumotos," Boss said. Tsubasa froze with his hand on the door handle. Then he pushed it open and stepped out.

***

Tsubasa glanced sideways at Takizawa and frowned. He didn't like surprises. Why would couriers, who worked with one of the biggest and most powerful yakuza corporations in Japan, pick up hitchhikers? Also, Takizawa didn't have a suitcase with him. Suspicious. And strange. Maybe they thought he was 'Yukio'? But if so, why would they pick up Tsubasa?

He sighed, shaking his head, which immediately made him nauseous.

"Still not there, Doumoto-san?" he asked.

"I did tell you to call me by my name, didn't I?" Tsuyoshi said, his gaze never leaving the road.

"At this point, I really couldn't care less who's answering."

Koichi laughed.

"Oh, you're good," he chuckled approvingly. "Still, stick with our first names. Tsuyoshi's kinda used to it."

He had already put his sunglasses on - the same ones that Tsubasa saw in the photos- and now, he was calmly looking out the window, evidently not interested in starting a conversation. Takizawa was reading a newspaper with a gloomy expression, and was seemingly oblivious to everything else. Tsubasa stole a glance at the bag near him. A pity he couldn't just take it and slip away now. Both Doumotos didn't seem dangerous to him, anyway... He sighed. Even Kitagawa hadn't seemed dangerous when Tsubasa met him for the first time.

It had been a wrong impression, though.

His cuts, bandaged with one of his shirts (he had a small rucksack with him), were aching. Tsubasa hadn't packed painkillers, no alcohol either, so he was reduced to suffering. Sitting was uncomfortable, to put it mildly; he wanted to lie down. Tsubasa pressed his palms to his eyes and bit his cheek to distract himself. Now he was hurting in three places instead of just one. He snorted. Clearly all the Hollywood movies were lying.

Something rustled beside him, and a pill fell on his lap. Tsubasa blinked.

"Swallow," Takizawa said.

"What is it?"

"Swallow."

Tsubasa twiddled the pill in his hands. Drugs?

"Nothing to wash it down with, I suppose?" he said, sighing. Takizawa jerked his shoulder up. A clear no.

Somehow, Tsubasa forced himself to swallow. The pill left a bitter taste in his mouth.

They drove on in silence. Some time after, Tsubasa started to feel better. He took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his jaw - he hadn't even noticed that he had been clenching it so hard.

"Better?" Takizawa asked.

Tsubasa looked at him gratefully. "Yeah. Thanks."

Takizawa shrugged again. Tsubasa shook himself; it was high time to get down to business.

"Where are you going, anyway?"

"Travelling," Koichi said lightly.

The bastard.

Tsubasa smiled. "And what if I need to go elsewhere?"

"Do you?" Koichi turned to him, his gaze sharp from behind the glasses. But he was calm; maybe, Tsubasa thought, they really think Takizawa is 'Yukio'.

Maybe not. Maybe Kochi was just good at acting.

Tsubasa ran a hand through his hair.

"Hell if I know. I have no idea where we are," he said irritably.

Koichi laughed. "Right. Tsuyoshi. Where are we?"

"On the road." Tsuyoshi got a map out of the glove compartment and tossed it to the back. "If your idea of fun isn't roaming the highway alone and injured, you're staying with us at least until we find a hotel."

"Not arguing." Tsubasa unfolded the map, trying to understand their location. "Just asking. I'm bored out of my mind."

"Hmm," was all Tsuyoshi said in return.

Very informative, Tsubasa thought sarcastically.

Takizawa echoed his thoughts.

"Very useful." He took the map out of Tsubasa's hands, studying it closely. "Does this highway have a number, at least? There might be some hotels on the map. Koichi-san is right. Sleeping in the car doesn't turn me on. And we need to get him," he nodded at Tsubasa, "to a doctor. Or at least fix his bandages."

Tsuyoshi stepped on the gas.

Tsubasa turned to Takizawa. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where are you going?"

Takizawa looked at him strangely. "Hitchhiking across Japan."

'Without any luggage?' Tsubasa wanted to ask, but kept silent. There might be a time when he would need painkillers again, not to mention he was better off not annoying someone he knew nothing about.

No one asked him anything, so he leaned back on his seat and closed his eyes, fully intending to sleep.

***

He woke up suddenly, startled.

"We found a hotel." Takizawa was standing outside the car, with Tsubasa's bag on one shoulder and another one - big and black - on the ground; he did have luggage after all, huh. Tsubasa stretched drowsily (he had slipped halfway onto the floor in his sleep), looked around. There was no one else in the car except him.

"Where's everyone?"

His voice sounded hoarse. He licked his lips. The pain from the cuts was killing him.

"Checking in. Wait." Takizawa put his hand out, stopping him. "We have to wait while they... Ah, there they are."

Tsubasa got out anyway; his legs felt numb, except for his cut that burned, and he wanted to sleep. Tsuyoshi gave him a worried look, but didn't say anything. Apparently, Tsubasa's appearance was perfectly in synch with his health.

"We'll be sharing a room," Tsuyoshi said. "I doubt you can bandage yourself, anyway," he waved in Tsubasa's general direction. "Let's go. Takki, wait for Koichi, he'll pay and get back."

Takizawa nodded. Tsubasa limped after Tsuyoshi, not looking back.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked quietly.

Tsuyoshi shrugged. "Depends on how long we'll be staying in this godforsaken place. I doubt there's even a gas station around... and we'll need one. We don't have enough gas to last till Tokyo."

"Tokyo, huh," Tsubasa muttered. Straight to the main office? That's a couple of days - he doubted he'd be fast enough to finish the deal...

"No. First, we have to go someplace else." Tsuyoshi stopped by the elevator and pressed the button. "Work. If you want, you could go with us? We have an empty seat," he smiled.

A yawn made his answer inarticulate. The elevator doors opened, inviting them inside. Tsuyoshi frowned at the card he was holding.

"Two-six-one...The second floor, then." The doors closed. "Think about it. We could use some help."

Tsubasa was so sleepy he could almost forget about his task. For a moment he glared at the bag, which Tsuyoshi was holding across his chest. He might be able to steal it...

He yawned again. The elevator jingled out one last note and stopped.

"Bathroom." Tsuyoshi threw the bag on one of the beds, locking the door behind them and putting the key in his pocket. Tsubasa gave the bag a long dark look, then took off his shoes and went to the bathroom.

"It will hurt."

Tsubasa nodded at the warning and gripped a towel in his hands tighter, clenching his teeth. Tsuyoshi started to clean his cuts in quick, rough motions; dirt and blood marred the whiteness of the towel. Tsubasa jerked away and then forced himself to stand still.

"Never been cut before?" Tsuyoshi tossed the towel in the sink and opened the medicine cabinet. Strangely enough, bandages were there. Tsubasa felt absurdly relieved that he wouldn't need to rip his favorite shirts to pieces again.

"Well," Tsuyoshi said at last, "one done. Give me your hand. At least it's clean now, but without proper stitches, scars are almost inevitable."

Tsubasa was okay with scars. He was okay with anything right now if he could be allowed to sleep.

When he collapsed on top of the blankets, still in his ruined shirt and pants, the clock on the wall read 3 a.m.


End file.
